familyproblem | Ryslig inbox

[…Huh. Well, whatever this "friend" is supposed to be, Rindo'll find out soon enough.]

got it
heading out now

[And so he does—umbrella in one hand, Lighthouse bag handle in the other, bag of meat hanging from his tail vine. It's a lot of stuff, but it's nothing his monster strength can't handle. How "convenient".

The walk to the bus stop is uneventful, as is the bus ride, despite Rindo's wild discomfort at the proximity of humans. None of them attempt to mess with him, but he is keenly aware of their presence around him, their looks, and of what the bag contains. The magazine barely helps. This is a nightmare—unfortunately not one he'll wake up from.

After what felt like ages, at last Rindo's stop is in sight. He gets off, wincing at his roots once again having to make contact with the wet ground. Like he doesn't feel gross enough already. He casts an uneasy glance around, looking for Gladion and the creature.]

[They're a little bit late, embarrassingly. More than embarrassingly. Rindo might see them, though - sort of - something horse-sized and kind of pale racing down the hill, off where the road curves and traces up through the woods.

They actually arrive at the stop about a minute after Rindo disembarks. The thing that approaches is certainly a large creature with white feathers. And there certainly is someone green in a rain poncho riding on its back.]

Read the time wrong, [Gladion half-shouts over the rain and the distance as Silvally begins to slow. It's barely stopped moving before he swings his leg over and jumps down, stumbles a little, walks closer.] Sorry about that. Any problems on the way?

[Under the poncho, Gladion is much more sparsely dressed than the first and last time they met. No thick jacket to cover his leaves and add weight to his silhouette. With less space between them, he looks up at Rindo: ears pressed out in faint unease, brow furrowed solemnly, trying not to draw attention to the way his gaze flicks down-and-up twice or thrice to take in the changes.

(Silvally blinks at the two of them. And blinks more, because of the rain, and shakes its head fruitlessly, and snorts a bit of water out of its nose.)]

[Rindo spends that minute wondering if he misread Gladion's instructions. In fact, he's about to pull the maps out of his bag just to double check when the sound of a slowing gallop and a familiar voice cut through the patter of the rain. He looks up, blinking a few times.

…There is a creature, as advertised. It looks… it looks like a lot of things. It certainly has feathers! But also a huge silver crest, and a metallic snout, and two different sets of legs, and a fish tail. Weird mix. Something about it reminds him of Junior—not in appearance, per se, they're quite different, but rather… the way they seem like animals but also not. Distinctly alien, yet familiar. (Like what Ryslig monsters are to humans…?)

A little over a month later, and with his own changes to recontextualize Gladion's appearance, Rindo can't help but stare at the other boy as he disembarks from his mount and approaches. The first time they met, Rindo was barely familiar with monsters at all. But now, having read the guide front to back a few times, he can easily pick out what they have in common and what they do not. Judging himself against Gladion as if this was a test and Gladion was the answer sheet.

…Gladion's staring, too. He's trying to be discreet about it, but it's still kind of obvious. Uncomfortable… but understandable. Can't blame him, especially since he's doing the same thing…

…And so is the creature. Evidently, there is much Looking to be done in this encounter. Surprisingly, the staring being mutual goes a long way to make it easier to stand—still, Rindo sheepishly averts his eyes, scratching his head in embarrassment, as he replies.]

I-It's okay, I just got here. And no, things went well.

[Somehow.

Gladion will soon find that Rindo is far less talkative in person. Meeting face-to-face is hard enough as it is, even without throwing now-being-a-monster, online oversharing and The Circumstances into the mix—so being personable is an impossible ask. (He's trying, though!)]

Good.

[By the same token, there's a nervous energy around Gladion that text hides for him. He holds his chin up, back straight, stands and walks and looks Rindo in the eye in all the ways that ought to speak to confidence, but all around the edges—the look in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way he looks like he's waiting for a reason to move so that he can act like he knows where he's going—there's a shadow, painting the seams in that confidence, pointing to where and how it's sewn together.

Still blinking against the rain, Silvally steps up closer behind him. Gladion reaches back and demonstratively pats its shoulder, under the strap of a messenger bag that's slung around its neck.] This is Silvally. We can try to ride back, if you want to skip the uphill walk.

[And it is a bit of a walk, and he remembers that just a week or so ago Rindo was talking about having to figure out how to walk again. He'd have offered anyways, for speed's sake, but—it seems even more prudent under the circumstances.]

Edited 2023-04-24 17:54 (UTC)

[Does Rindo pick up on all that? Perhaps he does, and in better circumstances he might spare it some conscious thought, but right now it's all he can do to try and keep a veneer of calm (it is not successful; he's clearly on edge, eyes on anything but Gladion, shuffling on his roots). And maybe when you need to see someone as reliable, because the alternative means there is no safety net here and you're all alone against everything, it's easier to close your eyes to the ways they're struggling. Still—the part of him that notices is half-soothed knowing Gladion feels out of his depth, too. It's… a very different vibe from Rindo's housemates.

Rindo hesitates at Gladion's offer for just a split second. After all, it's only been a week since his feet transformed into roots. …Honestly, the less time he spends with his roots in the mud, the better. Even if they didn't absorb an uncomfortable amount of moisture, it's not like he's had any practice walking on difficult terrain. It would be all too easy to slip and fall. Which… let's not make this any harder than it already is.

…Yeah, he'll take a chance on the weird horse.]

…Sure.

[Well, Silvally is very clearly not a horse, but riding it can't feel that different. The problem is, Rindo's a city boy. He's never ridden on the back of any animal before. And so he has no idea how to go about this!

He makes eye contact with Silvally, then mutters a hesitant "Hey". (Gladion had very specifically called it a friend. It just seems appropriate?)

…Now he's wondering how he would even climb on its back.]

[Like this: Silvally returns that hey with a little chirp (and another snort of rainwater, pointed delicately away from Rindo) and then crouches down so that he can just step over it and sit down. ezpz.

Meanwhile, Gladion is silently juggling his options: jump up there with him and try to ride faster (his original plan), or just walk alongside. The longer he watches Rindo radiate unease, the more he favors the second. Sure, they'd get to the house faster, but...

at what cost.]

[(Radiating unease is Rindo's default state though.)

…Well, that works. Now Rindo's wondering what to do about the bags. …And the umbrella. He makes a mental note to get himself a rain poncho ASAP because this is silly.

He eventually decides to just place the bags on the ground for now, and to coil his tail vine around the umbrella. (It is surprisingly easy to keep it stable above his head like this. Hm.)

His hands freed, he mounts Silvally, grabbing onto its slick back—but since he's being extremely careful to not nick the creature with his claws, it… doesn't actually do much! And Rindo's two free vines seem well-aware of this problem, as they're starting to try to poke out from under his shirt collar.]

Edited 2023-04-25 18:55 (UTC)

[Gladion scoops the free bag up and puts it over his own shoulder.]

It's easier like this.

[He steps up by Silvally's shoulder and casts his own vines out through the arm holes of his poncho, wrapping them around its head half with his own hands as if they were ropes and half under their own power. Tied around the base of the crest, then looped down around the neck further down—it leaves a little slack, but you can stabilize yourself pretty well without having to grab on too tightly.]

You can hold on pretty firmly here too, as long as you don't dig all the way down through the feathers. [Indicating the base of the neck, right above its shoulders. Silvally chirps agreement.]

[…The sleeves would be easier for this, indeed. Rindo redirects the vines through there after realizing they were starting to do their own thing. He then does his best to copy Gladion—it takes him a little longer, but he manages it.

The vines are loose around Silvally's neck, because Rindo has not actually had much practice with grip strength and he doesn't want to strangle the poor thing; he tightens their hold progressively, then gives them a little tug. That seems… good enough? Still somewhat slack, but he feels Anchored.

He still doesn't look super confident, but this task appears to have distracted him from The Horrors decently well. He glances back at Gladion, seeking approval.]

Is this good?

...Yeah. Go ahead and—

[Silvally stands back up, on cue. Gladion's not too worried. He backs away, looks up, and nods.]

If you start to lose balance, just lean forward. [Into its neck.] Let's move?

[Fweet. And they'll set off like that, at a walking pace, and see how Rindo fares. Silvally's gait isn't quite like a horse's—not that he could tell anyways?]

[Indeed, Rindo cannot tell; he's mostly just focused on Not Falling. He acknowledges Gladion's tip with a nod. After a few seconds of moving, he relaxes a little—staying on is easier than he anticipated.

…Is Gladion just going to walk? That doesn't seem fair.]

You're not getting on?

[Maybe Silvally can only carry one person?]

[Gladion looks back with an eyebrow raised slightly. Doesn't leave it hanging on Rindo for more than a second before looking Silvally in the eye. It says pih.

Alright then.]

Scoot forward?

[And he'll stop to let Silvally walk up beside him. Gladion jumps and swings a leg over, getting seated behind Rindo; one vine latches on around Silvally's middle, the others swing up past Rindo and grab in approximately the same places, vines criss-crossing over each other.

Pih, the beast says again, which sounds kind of like a mirthful snort, and keeps walking. Gladion braces himself with one hand on Silvally's hindquarters, and at this pace, doesn't have to grab at Rindo. Which is probably good for his umbrella situation.]

It might be a little faster like this.

[A concession.]

[Rindo twists his body a bit, watching Gladion get on. …Moves his tail vine to his side, to give Gladion more room.]

Yeah, probably.

[…Riding a weird horse with Gladion ranks at the top of the list of things Rindo did not expect to be doing today.]

So… Are we stopping by your place first?

That's the plan. It's on the way anyways, and we can at least get out of the rain for a few minutes even if we don't go inside. [Kind of circling the main point here. This is the first time he's ever ridden Silvally with someone else in front...kind of weird. Huh.

Gladion is sort of watching off over Rindo's shoulder, in the direction they're headed. He makes eye contact once or twice, though. Brief glances, not fully comfortable.]

I went out and did some setup already. There's nothing left to do but just...go out there. I figured afterwards we'd go back to the house, clean up if the mud was a problem, dry off. [And, like...decompress. Handle freakouts. You know. You will know, anyways.]

…Sounds good.

[…"Afterwards." This whole time he's felt like he was marching straight toward a sheer cliff, with no way to change course. The reminder that the world will not in fact end after this is likely unintended by Gladion, perhaps obvious, but helpful all the same. Still, there's the same knot in his stomach that would come up before doctor's visits or exams, except a million times worse and without his parents to reassure him.

…He sucks air in through his teeth as a little tremor goes through his tail vine, shaking raindrops off the umbrella's canopy. Can't be thinking about this. Not now.

(It's always the most random little things that remind him.)

Rindo turns his head forward and away from Gladion perhaps a little abruptly, watching Silvally's head bob up and down as it walks at a steady pace. He rubs the back of his fingers against the creature's back in an absentminded sort of petting motion. Trying to calm down.]

[It does not in fact "sound good". You could not pick a more obviously "I am saying something to say something" thing to say.

Which is fully understandable.

Taking the rear seat gives Gladion a clear view of each of those little fidgets. It's...it's funny, because this doesn't feel like a trip out to the patch. Because he's never been accompanied out to the patch, and two months later still hasn't ever planned out anything like this.

(Even when he—the time or two that he's imagined something to do with Rindo's shared designation, it stopped short at talking about it. The good-bad end where feeding was like that for him too, and the bad-good end where it wasn't.)

It's unreal in way similar to how the first trip out there was unreal. Maybe that's appropriate.]

...I don't expect to run into the twins. Emmet's a gargoyle, and Ingo went into town. Maybe later, if it takes a while. [Now he's just automatically running through the notes in his head. Things to tell visitors, emergency version.] But in case we do—they're both a little eccentric. Emmet doesn't have much of a verbal filter, and Ingo usually sounds like he's yelling. They both always mean well, though. They're the most straightforward people you'll ever meet.

[Gladion's voice is a welcome distraction. It's good to hear they likely won't encounter the twins. Rindo wouldn't mind meeting them, especially with their shared circumstances, but just… not right now.

He has a bit of a hard time imagining someone even more straightforward than Beat. From that description, they sound like quite the characters, though. He turns his head to the side to ask:]

You mentioned one of them has amnesia, right? Which one?

[Mostly just prodding Gladion, to make him keep talking. It's better to listen to him than to be alone with his thoughts.]

That's Ingo. [Likewise, having something to talk about isn't a bad thing by any means. It's a healthy ten minutes of walking to the house at least, and then more walking after that. The things he wants to say about feeding are...probably best reserved for right before it happens.] I don't remember exactly how much I told you, but his...situation has some layers to it. He was displaced in time in our world, and lost his memory in the process. Then he lived like that for a few years before coming here. So he's had to get used to a lot of modern technology along with everything else...again. [...beat] Or what passes for modern technology here.

[…Oh. Gladion had mentioned that one of the twins was from the future and one from the past, but Rindo had not quite made the mental leap to time travel back then.]

Displaced in time… That's…

[He pauses, wondering if he should say this. It's not that he thinks Gladion won't believe him, it's just… It's little more than hearsay, to him. But it's relevant to the situation, so…]

…Apparently I could time travel back home. According to Shoka at least… [Not that he doubts her, it's just… it's still hard to imagine this kind of stuff even being possible, let alone something he was able to do.] But it sounds like Ingo didn't have a choice.

[Hhuh, Gladion breathes, sounding as if this gives him much to think about. Blinking once at Rindo with a small, pensive frown. The implications of that are pretty intense, he thinks. For one thing: just how much of a difference is there between his time and Shoka's, cumulatively?]

...Not at all. He doesn't remember exactly how it happened, but as far as we know, there wasn't any rhyme or reason to it. Just an unfortunate accident.

[thinkin bout wormholes.]

And the cherry on top? Emmet seems to be from before that even happened. The last thing he remembers before Ryslig, he and Ingo were together.

[…Yeah that's a fair reaction. But it's not like Rindo has much of anything to add beyond "this is a thing that happened, supposedly", so even if Gladion asked for details he couldn't tell him anything of value.

He winces sympathetically as Gladion continues to describe the twins' situation.]

Must've been rough to meet like this…

[He's picturing it going about the same way it did when he met Swallow—both sides confused and upset at each other… But for her, it was like he'd been gone for well over a year.

Still, the similarities are uncanny. If talking to Ingo and Emmet about all this helps him even half as much as talking to Gladion about Nymph things (and more) did, it'll have been more than worth the trouble.]

"Rough" is a way to put it. For the first...month or so, they barely talked to each other. Not that you'd know it now.

[He thinks Rindo may be drawing Inferences and Conclusions from this. Perhaps. Should he disclaim this somehow? Temper his expectations?

...No. That's just fussing, not kindness. He doesn't know what's going on in Rindo's head.]

You can ask either of them about it. Some of what happened at first in Felfri can be an uncomfortable subject, but...they're straightforward, like I said. Those kinds of questions never seem to bother them much.

[The road flattens out a little here, now truly up on the hill, and the forest canopy starts to close overhead, rain sounds echoing in the leaves all around.]

That's good to know.

[It's a complicated topic to breach, and Rindo doesn't want to dredge up painful memories for the twins, but if they're okay with it… Well, he'll just see how it goes when it comes to it.

Rindo takes a moment then to glance around. He's not been surrounded by this much vegetation in quite some time, even before Ryslig. Of course, he hasn't forgotten why he's here with Gladion in the first place. Nymph things. Which he knows includes a… "connection with nature", whatever that means.

So, tentatively, he sort of… reaches out with his mind. Looking for something. A reaction, a response, a feeling. (On the outside, he appears intensely focused in a detached sort of way.)

…and comes up with nothing, except a renewed awareness of his persistent hunger. Not sure if he's doing it wrong, or if it just hasn't kicked in yet. He lets out a small sigh after that momentary distraction.]

[...Is that what it looks like from the outside?]

Tuning in?

…Trying to. I don't think it's working.

[Or if it is, he's not paying attention to the right thing.

…]

How did it feel? The first time, I mean. Like, did you have to do it on purpose or did it just… happen?

[He's being very vague but he doesn't exactly have a frame of reference for this stuff, and Gladion seems to have figured out what he was attempting to do, so…]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject